'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Four
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.
From part three:
Harm was overwhelmed with relief when he heard her speak even though her voice had suffered from the long days of intubation. He needed to steady himself, holding onto the bed, before he could take her hand to clasp it between his own. "We're at a military hospital in Yuma. You nearly got yourself killed in the attempt to save Chloe, Sergei and little AJ. God, Mac, I thought this time I'd lost you for good."
Shuddering involuntarily, he smiled at her, but his smile fell as he saw the look of utmost confusion on her face. He felt her pull her hand back from his and a chill of fear threatened to paralyze him. A mix of dread, grief and compassion was showing on the doctor's features. He only mumbled something about having other patients to tend to and excused himself just a little too quickly.
Mac was looking at Harm with wide eyes, apparently at a total loss as to what she was supposed to think. Then she smiled a little self-consciously. Harm braced himself for the worst, but still, the impact of her next words took his breath away and threw his life into a murderous tailspin.
Again, Mac cleared her throat and coughed a little. When she finally spoke, her voice was achingly innocent. "I'm really sorry. But I'm afraid I don't understand. What did you say I did, nearly getting myself killed? And... uhm..." She chuckled a little helplessly, "I'm so embarrassed to ask as you seem to know me, but... have we ever met before?"
Part Four:
Deep silence followed the sentence. Mechanically, Harm reached for a nearby chair and settled down at her bedside, his eyes never leaving hers. She was obviously waiting for an answer and seemed to be searching his face for some hint as to what kind of answer she was about to get from him. Embarrassment and curiosity were shining in her eyes - but they were mingled with a considerable amount of anxiety as the moment was dragging out and she couldn't seem to get her thoughts straight.
Harm's vocal chords refused their duties and just like her, he had to clear his throat several times, prolonging the moment even more. But the urge to speak was overwhelming, and he forced his voice to comply, regardless of any possible consequences.
He tried a strained smile, if only to hide his own inward turmoil. "Mac, don't tell me you've forgotten what a pain in the..."
He stopped short when he realized that the anxiety in her eyes had turned to despair. And it was then that it hit him for good: she really and truly didn't remember a single thing about him. It didn't matter that her injury apparently hadn't caused any major physical damage. And it didn't matter that this loss of memory had more likely been caused by the traumatic events she'd been through than by the bullet that had grazed her head. The result of whatever had caused it was devastating. The way she looked at him - daring him to assume he had any right whatsoever to claim a personal acquaintance, and at the same time frantically calling out to him to save her from the horror of oblivion, whoever he might be...
Utterly unprepared for this situation as he was, one thing instantly became crystal clear before his conscious: to win her back, he had to keep his distance. He would help her with every single step on the way if she'd let him, but he knew he had to keep his feelings to himself at all costs. Mac was as lost as she could ever be and she was right now facing the battle of her lifetime to come back to herself. Not 'even though', but 'because' he loved her more than anything in the world, he had to avoid telling her anything that would throw her off track even more.
He still remembered how he had felt when he had come to after his rescue from the Atlantic and Renée had told him that they had been an item for more than a year. The only thing he had wanted had been to figure out his situation and she had only added to his confusion - because she had loved him and had told him so. He had felt honor-bound to stay with her, and not only because Mac had been with Mic at the time. It had mostly been because he had believed what Renée had told him. Why would she lie about something as important as a personal relationship? And how could he have left her like that, seeing how involved she obviously was with him? He hadn't wanted to stay with Renée, but he had known he couldn't just walk out of her life. So, knowing Mac to be equally honorable - wouldn't she react in exactly the same way? When she'd have him around all the time, helping her through this ordeal, and knowing he loved her, wouldn't she stay with him, even though she didn't remember anything at all about him, just because she felt she was honor-bound to?
If he'd ever let it come to this, their future would be doomed.
Unbeknownst to the person next to him who was still staring at him with huge, terrified eyes, Harmon Rabb, Jr., made what might easily be the hardest decision of his entire life. Even though it was tearing him up from inside with a pain so powerful he thought he'd suffocate, he knew it was the right - no, the only - thing to do.
He let her go.
"Umm... sir?" Mac's hoarse voice had taken up a puzzled edge as she carefully reminded him of her presence.
He jumped and, shutting his heart off for good, faced her with a tired half- smile. "Oh, I'm sorry. I... I'm still very tired because of my injury and I... uh... I guess I was indeed surprised that my colleague of six years doesn't remember me at all."
If it was even possible, her eyes went wider still, but the desperation showing in them lessened just a little bit, hearing that she apparently did know him quite well. "Six years?" she asked, more to herself than to him. Then her brow furrowed. "An injury, you say? Does what happened to you have anything to do with me?"
"Yes, it does," he explained calmly, pondering how much he could tell her without losing her somewhere on the way. Then, deciding he'd probably have to go back quite a long way anyway, he took the plunge. He'd soon find out if she remembered anything at all. "We were rescuing little AJ, Chloe and Sergei when the kidnappers opened fire. You were hit four times, to your thigh, at your shoulder and at your hip, and a ricochet grazed the back of your head. I got a bullet to my thigh as well, when I tried to get you out of the line of fire."
He knew his explanation had done anything but cleared things up for her but this was as good a starting point as any, so he just waited for her to react.
"Good God..." she mumbled and he thought he could see her thoughts chasing each other behind her forehead. "So, I... I guess I owe you my life, then," she concluded a little uneasily.
Knowing any denial would only distort the truth, he just nodded. "You're welcome."
The furrow on her brow eased a little and she seemed to take in his features. The features of her savior, whoever he might turn out to be. "Thank you... uh..." She stopped, lost.
"Harm," he helped her in a low voice, trying to ignore the sting. "Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., United States Navy, your working partner at the Navy's Judge Advocate General Corps."
"I'm in the Navy?"
Despite the tragedy, he couldn't help chuckling a little at her question. "You'd have introduced me to your right hook if I'd ever so much as joked about you being in the Navy, jarhead," he answered wistfully, lost in memories.
"Excuse me?" Even though her voice was feeble, her surprise and annoyance were evident. "What did you just call me? Are you always this rude? And what makes you think I'd start a fight with you? I'm not suicidal, you know..."
Sighing, Harm pulled himself up a little in his chair and resolved to take up Sisyphus's labor. "I'm sorry, Mac... I... why don't we just go all the way back to the beginning?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a flashback to the JAG-a-thon crossed his mind for a fleeting moment, and the irony wasn't lost on him. However, he had no time to dwell on the thought as just then the door opened and the doctor returned with two colleagues and a nurse in tow.
"Well, Colonel Mackenzie, it's nice to have you with us again," he said a little too cheerfully, ignoring Harm. "How are you feeling?"
"I don't really know," came the uneasy answer.
"But we do," the doctor went on in his honeyed voice. "We had all your vitals monitored closely, you know, until last night when we decided you were stable enough to go without help, except for the additional oxygen tube to your nose. But what would you say if we took that tube away, too, and moved you to a somewhat nicer room? The ICU's not exactly cozy. I guess you'd like to leave here as soon as you can."
Mac gave a weary "Sounds good," but Harm could clearly detect the 'Damned- right-I-do!' in her words. In an odd way, this ever so slight reminder of her gung-ho mentality managed to alleviate his mood a little. She was still Mac. Now she only needed to learn who Mac was.
Jan. 10th 0017 ZULU Admiral Chegwidden's house McLean, Virginia
AJ put his book aside and quickly strode over to the telephone that was ringing persistently. Actually, it wasn't ringing any differently from how it normally did, but still, there was something to the tone this time that had his apprehension growing. And knowing that a similar sense of foreboding normally came in connection with his chief of staff, AJ was sure that this call must have something to do with her. Dreading the news he might be about to receive, he picked up.
"Chegwidden."
["Sir, this is Commander Rabb."]
AJ's grip on the receiver tightened. He'd known it all along. "Commander, how's the situation?" he asked warily.
["She woke up, sir."]
A wave of joy flowed through the admiral's body. He hadn't lost the woman he'd always loved like his own daughter - and at times maybe even more. "That's wonderful, Harm," he said, a sigh of relief resounding in his words.
["Yes, sir."]
The obvious lack of joy and enthusiasm in the younger man's voice took him aback. "Commander," he asked sharply, "What aren't you telling me?"
The pause that followed the question made him hold his breath; all previous elation vanished instantly.
["She's got amnesia, sir."]
The short, next-to-no-info answers of his subordinate started to infuriate him. "Details, Rabb," he barked, taking refuge into anger so he wouldn't have to face the fear. "What doesn't she remember?"
["Everything, it seems, sir..."] The commander's voice had reduced to little more than a whisper and AJ could tell Harm was fighting to keep his composure. ["She even asked me if she knew me."]
"Dear God... what are the chances she'll get her memory back?"
["No one can tell, sir. I've been told that judging by her physical state, the memory loss is more likely the result of her traumatic experiences in connection with the hit at the head. The doctor says we should be grateful the bullet only grazed the skull and that she's awake and moving. That she's thinking and speaking seems to be a miracle in itself."]
AJ slowly sat down on the couch, horrified - and hurting for both of his friends. Both were facing a dreadful ordeal - Mac, fighting to get some hold on anything from her former life, and Harm, seeing his love had forgotten he even existed.
His love. AJ braced himself. He hated to intrude but he felt he had to know the truth if he wanted to be able to support them in some way. "Harm," he ventured carefully, "Since when exactly have you and Mac been together?"
Harm didn't even try to deny. ["New Year, sir,"] came the toneless answer. ["About an hour before Harriet's call."]
They hadn't even had the time to get to know each other as lovers - emotionally as well as physically. AJ's heart went out to them. Mac's bottomless grief about Harm being lost at sea was still vivid in his memory. Back then, she'd been about to marry another man. But now, she and Harm seemed to have - finally - managed to lay all the cards on the table and talk from the heart. He couldn't even begin to understand what Harm had to be going through.
AJ wished he were able to help them wake from this nightmare, or to at least ease the pain somehow... and suddenly, it struck him. He could in fact do some genuine good here. And he would, so help him God.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am, and I know that sounds terribly flat," he began. "But I want you to know that we're all in this with you. Me, Bud and Harriet, Sturgis - we'll all do whatever we can to help you in some way."
Harm's voice conveyed a tired, rueful smile. ["Thank you, sir, I appreciate that, but I doubt there's anything you can help us with right now - except figuring out a way how I can stay with Mac and not face AWOL charges. Or how I can ensure she'll still have her old life to come back to once she gets there."]
"As a matter of fact: that was exactly what I was getting at, Commander," AJ replied. "I know it seems way too early to think of things as secondary as this, but I know how much it'll mean to both of you. You'll understand that I can't prolong Mac's leave indefinitely without revealing what happened. She could also resign her commission at once in this case, because no one would ever allow her to stay in the service if she doesn't come back to her normal self within the next three weeks. If it takes longer than that, everyone will always suspect that some permanent brain damage occurred. And with that, she won't be allowed to remain in the service at all."
["I guess not, sir."] He could tell Harm hadn't really considered this possibility before. He seemed shocked at the perspective of Mac facing a disability discharge. So AJ hurried to set his mind at ease.
"However, as for now, only me, you and the doctors know. You and I can keep this a secret, and the doctors are bound by medical confidentiality. We might need to tell a few trustworthy people later on, but if you could keep her from revealing her memory loss to anyone right now until she can leave the hospital, and if you could supply her with everything she'll need to know immediately, then the memory loss might go unnoticed. Then, you'd just need to figure out a reason why she might want to go into reserves and retreat from active duty, for now, and talk her into signing that letter. If all goes well, she could be reinstated to her position without major problems whenever she's ready."
Again, silence reigned for a few seconds as his offer seemed to sink in at the other end of the phone line. When he finally answered, Harm's voice was a little shaky. ["Thank you, sir,"] he only choked out very low.
"Anytime, son. And good luck," AJ gently replied and ended the connection without any more words. He knew that probably neither of them would have been able to talk very much anyway right now.
Jan. 10th 1522 ZULU Military hospital Yuma, Arizona
When she heard the slight creaking of the door, the woman occupying the single bed instantly turned her head in the direction the sound was coming from, eager to absorb any detail whatsoever that might in some way give her an idea of who she was. As of now, she didn't really know a thing. It felt as if she didn't even exist - and the feeling was scaring her to no end.
She had gotten a few crumbs of information before she had been brought here, and had then been forced to give in to her exhaustion and sleep. When she had woken, the first thing she had felt was the fear that she might already have forgotten what little she had learned just a few hours ago. But then, wracking her brain - or whatever was left of it, she thought wearily - she had been able to put the information together. Still, it made no sense.
Her name was Mackenzie. Apparently, her friends called her Mac. If this Commander Rabb - Harm - really was a friend of hers. She had no way of knowing for sure. Her gut told her to trust him. The expression of concern and caring in his eyes had seemed ever so sincere. Yet, she knew she had to be careful. Right now, she was as vulnerable as a newborn child.
At least the doctor had confirmed something Harm had told her. He had called her 'Colonel Mackenzie' and then, this was a military hospital. She had figured out as much. So she really was in the military. If what Harm had told her was true, she had to be a Marine. There were no colonels in the Navy. She had asked herself again and again why she would know such general details as this and remember nothing about herself, and she had dug frantically for anything whatsoever that might point her to a more personal line of thinking. Yet, nothing had come of it. She had to stick to what Harm would be able to tell her.
If he was a commander and her working partner, she had to be a lieutenant colonel, she supposed. She doubted she could be ranking higher than him. Apparently, she was a lawyer. A frightening thought, given the fact that she couldn't remember ever reading a law book. But she would worry about that later. For the moment, she accepted it as a given that she was Lieutenant Colonel "Mac" Mackenzie, a lawyer working with the Navy's JAG. How she knew what JAG was anyway, she couldn't tell. She just did.
And now this weird story about her and him saving someone and being shot - this was where she lost track of what was going on. Her life was no freaking movie, damn it. Lawyers didn't chase kidnappers except if they were called Robert Redford in real life. She'd grill Harm on that one, she resolved, seeing him step into the room, a self-conscious smile on his face.
A handsome face it was, she had to admit, and a handsome appearance altogether. Surely he'd have women waiting in line. Definitely not her man. She knew she just hated those Don-Juan types, speaking in terms of relationships. Yet, if he was willing to help her and if they got on well at work, she could have had worse company in her current situation. Where was her family anyway? Harm was the only one who'd shown up yet.
He stepped close, pulled up a chair and sat down at her side, the self- conscious expression still in place. This surprised her a little - a man like him was supposed to be as sure of himself as anyone. But this would be another detail to be added to her getting-to-know list and stored for later. Now, her priorities were somewhat different.
"Hi, Marine," he greeted her in a low, warm voice, startling her as she felt his words go right through to her soul. There was something about the sound of his voice that struck her, but she willed herself to ignore the feeling. 'Later,' she told herself, frowning inwardly.
"Hey... umm..." she stopped, feeling her smile turn a little strained. How did one reply wittily to that one? "Uh... sailor?" she tried. His reaction told her she had picked the right guess - and for what followed, she was completely unprepared.
His face lit up. The way he smiled at her had to be the most stunning manifestation of a warm, likeable disposition she had ever seen. 'Lethal,' she mused, again picturing women lining up in front of his door. And yet - there was something so genuinely good and compassionate in his expression that she was instantly afraid she wouldn't be able to be on her guard around him.
"I see you pardoned me for being rude earlier," he remarked.
"Maybe..." she replied, finding it hard to keep the corners of her mouth relaxed. "But what was that you said to me anyway? Jarhead?"
His glance turned just a little guilty. "Yep," he admitted sheepishly. "You know, you Marines and us sailors tend to... well... disagree on what's more important - in war, in training, in... whatever. Each branch has its pride. So, to make a long story short, just call me 'squid' next time I forget my manners. So we're equal."
Soft laughter bubbled up inside her. This self-irony definitely suited him, she decided. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind."
He chuckled with her, but sobered quickly. "How are you feeling?" he asked, concern showing in his eyes.
"I don't really know," she answered honestly, looking down on her hands and straightening a little in her half-seated position. "Confused as hell covers it nicely, I think."
She saw him make a movement as if to take her hand but he drew back immediately. "I can imagine." Again, the velvety sound of his voice easily penetrated the walls she was trying to erect around herself.
Looking up, she fixed her glance to his. His eyes were of an amazing shade of deep blue, with just the right amount of green shining through. "No," she said calmly. "In fact, you can't."
"Actually, I do know how you feel," he replied, leaving her staring at him in mild astonishment. "At least partly," he continued. "Last May, I had to eject over the Atlantic and was out in the water for hours. When they finally found me, I was barely alive, and when I came to, I suffered partial amnesia for a few days."
It seemed he had really been in her place, at least to some extent. "You ejected?" she asked, trying to get some order into the facts. "I thought you were a lawyer."
With a rueful half-smile, he explained, "I am. I used to fly F-14s, but I caused a ramp strike in '92, due to eye problems. So I changed designator."
The expression on his features had turned just a little pained. She could feel there was more to the story... as there seemed to be more to just about everything she came across. Squaring her shoulders, she forced her focus back on the task at hand, getting to know herself. All details concerning her surroundings would follow later on. Still, one question had piqued her curiosity.
"Where was I when you were lost at sea, and afterwards, at the hospital? Was I with you?"
Again, she noted that his brow furrowed considerably as he seemed to ponder his answer. 'He's not being sincere,' she thought sadly, wishing her impression of him were different.
"You had personal issues to tend to at the time," he answered, his voice guarded. "And that prevented you from coming to the hospital very often. Still, you played an important role in bringing me back to myself."
So he probably was just paying back what she had done for him back then, she mused. Yet, he was being a little too hesitant in answering her questions. Was he concerned that she might not be able to digest the info yet? Or what was there to conceal about her life?
Deciding on a slight change of topic, she swallowed her uneasiness best as she could. "That was probably far easier than what we've got at hand right now," she stated in a low voice. "Your memory loss was partial, you said. Well, apparently, mine isn't. I don't even know my own name." Her gaze dropped.
She gave a start when she felt his hand shyly touching her shoulder, asking her to look at him. Slowly, she lifted her gaze and what she saw in his eyes overwhelmed her with the depth of emotion he seemed to be trying to hide, but couldn't. He seemed to have a truly compassionate heart. Somehow, this thought moved her deeply.
"You're going to be fine," he answered just as low as she had spoken, intently looking at her. "If you're willing to let me, I promise I'll do everything in my power to help you come back to your normal self. Trust me, Sarah."
Sarah.
She could feel goose-bumps at the back of her neck. 'Sarah Mackenzie' - the name didn't feel familiar, but it did ring a bell somewhere deep inside her mind. A first step in the right direction? 'Please, God, let me be right...'
Harm was still looking at her, studying her features for any signs of a reaction. Making an effort, she managed to force the slightest hint of a smile on her face. Then she held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Harmon. I am Sarah."
Confused, she noted that he swallowed heavily. "It's Harm," he repeated. "And you tell everyone to call you Mac. Maybe we should leave it at that?"
"Is it a problem for you to use my given name?" This man was turning out a real puzzle.
He ran a hand through his hair. "No, but..." Again, he hesitated, confirming her suspicion that she was getting an edited version of her story. Her anger growing, she spoke up.
"The truth. And not just this once, Harm. You understand 'the whole truth and nothing but the truth', don't you? And don't ask me how I knew that. I've got no f...reaking idea."
He sighed, apparently resolving to give in. "It's just that 'Sarah' is someone you tend to keep to yourself, Mac. 'Mac' is the one we're all friends with. I didn't think you'd want that to change just now."
Boy, was this ever getting complex. She stifled an exasperated face. Well, this schizophrenia would stop from now on. She felt no need to get to know a multiple personality when one would do just fine. And somehow she knew she wanted to be Sarah. She didn't know the bearer of the name - but she felt like Sarah was the one she was reaching out to.
"Actually, I do want it to change," she declared determinedly, ignoring the flash of pain that crossed his features ever so briefly. Her jaw set, she again stuck out her hand to him. "Let's try this again: I'm delighted to meet you, Harm."
Hesitantly, he reached for her fingers and finally encircled them with his own, the warm contact instantly electrifying her. Still holding her gaze, he solemnly replied, "Believe me, Sarah, so am I."
For a long moment, their eyes held. Then she felt she couldn't stand the tension any longer and broke the contact - eyes as well as hands. While she was readjusting her blanket, she tried to get the conversation going again.
"Tell me, how exactly did we end up here?"
"Okay, I'll try to make this short," he began, pulling a photo out of his wallet and handing it to her. It was kind of an informal family photo, apparently very recent. In the middle was a couple, a young, slightly stout man with a blond woman, his wife, she supposed. The woman was holding a boy of about three years on her arms. To her right, a tall, balding man was towering over her. Next to him stood a handsome African-American. To the young man's left, she spotted a woman with dark hair and big brown eyes, standing just next to Harm. Suddenly, her hand started to tremble. She knew this face.
"This is me, isn't it?" she whispered.
"Yeah..." he softly acknowledged. Then his voice turned neutral. "The couple in the middle are Lieutenants Bud Roberts and Harriet Sims-Roberts. Bud is a lawyer and Harriet is an office executive. They're colleagues of ours at JAG. As is this nice man here," he indicated the African-American. "This is Commander Sturgis Turner, former submariner and now a JAG lawyer, too. Pal of mine back from Naval Academy. And this," his finger moved to the last figure in the picture, "Is our commanding officer, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden. He passed his name on to this little guy," he indicated the child on Harriet's arms. "AJ Roberts, three years old, your and my godson."
Sarah was touched. "He's adorable."
Harm nodded. "Yes, he is. And we love him very much, I can tell you that. Mac, uh... I'm sorry... Sarah... now we're getting to the point." His expression had turned very earnest and Sarah felt her apprehension grow as he went on, "Ten months ago, Bud and I prosecuted a Naval officer for murder and got him convicted to life at Fort Leavenworth, the armed forces' prison. You were assigned his defense counsel and when he was found guilty, he swore he'd get back at us. He did, on New Years Eve."
It seemed to her that he was waiting for any indication as to if she was still following him. "I see," she cut in, although she didn't, but that didn't matter right now. "What did he do?"
"We were at a ball in D.C., you, me, Bud and Harriet," Harm explained. Sarah made a mental side-note: she had gone to a ball with Harm. In private. Definitely a detail that needed further inquiry. 'Later,' she once again admonished herself. Harm went on, "When we... when I'd taken you home, Harriet called and told us that there'd been a break in at their house. Little AJ and his babysitters were gone. And said babysitters happened to be Chloe, the girl you were tutoring in the Big Sister Program, and my Russian half-brother Sergei. Don't ask for details now, these are two long stories of their own." He held up a hand, silencing her. "Anyway, we knew this was the doing of the officer we had gotten convicted and you knew where to find them. We went out there, bailed them out, were being shot at and... well, this is the result."
"Phew," Sarah made, amazement warring with disbelief and anger in her soul. "I can't quite bring myself to believe that lawyers like us would go and get them ourselves. But the wounds are there, so I'll leave it at that. This Chloe - she's not my real sister, I understand. Who IS my family, then?" She could hear that her voice had taken on a slightly accusing edge but she couldn't help it. What was Harm trying to accomplish, telling her stories as crazy as this one? She could really need an honest ally... sad that it shouldn't be him.
Harm had apparently understood her mood and picked up on it. "Mac - Sarah..."
'Why is it so difficult for him to comply with my wish?' she thought with a mental frown.
He tried again. "You'll find that our lives have grazed certain borderlines more than once," he ventured carefully. "I know many things will sound weird, lunatic even. I can only offer my word of honor as an officer that what I'm telling you is true." His expression was very sincere and she felt strongly inclined to believe him, but she forcefully reminded herself to be on her guard. 'Everyone might be your enemy,' she told herself. 'Don't let yourself be lured into trusting someone you barely know.'
"Okay," she only said, not quite sure what her answer was meant to imply. "So, now, my family."
When she saw him wince, she felt like she wanted to shake him. "Damn it, Harm," she said in a low voice, "If I'm a Marine, as you keep telling me I am, I can handle whatever there is to tell. Spill it."
She heard him sigh. "Your father is dead." Harm's voice sounded defeated and monotone. "He died about three years ago. You were never close. He was an abusive alcoholic. Your mother left him - and you - when you turned fifteen. You met her again at your father's deathbed but you didn't stay in contact. You have no brothers or sisters. Your uncle, Marine Colonel Matthew O'Hara, is... on a mission abroad right now and not allowed to get in touch. You were married but your husband died in an accident involving a handgun. You have no children. That's it."
Sarah sat thunderstruck. This was her life. And from Harm's hesitation, she knew he had tried to give her the inevitable facts only. Now she wasn't even sure she wanted to hear the rest of it. What good was getting your life back if it turned out such a mess?
Compassion shone in Harm's eyes when she turned her head to face him. "Sarah, I'm so sorry, I wanted to..."
He didn't get to finish his sentence. The door opened and a young nurse stepped in, holding a box of chocolates. She was smiling widely. "Ma'am, sir, I just wanted to give you this on behalf of all the nurses who looked after you in Intensive Care. We don't know any details about your condition, ma'am, but as we can see that you're already catching up, we wanted to wish you all the best. Welcome back, ma'am."
"Thank you so much," Sarah replied happily, "I really appreciate that."
"You're welcome, ma'am." With a shy wave, the nurse retreated from the room and closed the door again.
Sarah opened the box and chose a piece of chocolate, glad to have a little sweet consolation to help her over the sad things she'd just learned about herself. But just when she was about to open her mouth, Harm quickly snatched both, chocolate and box, away from her hands, his expression horrified.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped, at a loss and annoyed for good this time. The commander was a genuine nuisance.
"There's rum in it," Harm explained very low, apparently not even daring to face her, but she needed him to. After all, he had provoked her.
"So what?" she shot back, noting with satisfaction that he seemed to be lifting his eyes to hers against his own will.
"You mustn't eat that," he stated in a pained voice. Then he took a deep breath. "You're an alcoholic, Sarah, like your father. You've been sober for over ten years now, except for once and that was understandable, given the situation. But you need to continue on that path."
Deep silence prevailed when he had finished his sentence. Sarah was too shell-shocked even to breathe. It wasn't just her life that was a mess - she was.
Her eyes were glued to her hands that were resting in her lap. Her mind was spinning. Where the devil was she supposed to go from here? What was there to come back to after all? And would this really be worth the effort? Right now, the only answers she could think of were 'nowhere', 'nothing' and 'no'.
When she felt his hand on her shoulder again, she gave in to the inevitable and looked up, allowing him to see there were tears in her eyes. He reached out as if to brush them away but she recoiled, making his shoulders drop.
"Sarah..." Again, the tone of his voice struck her. And suddenly she found it was too much to bear.
"Harm, I... I'm sorry, but, please, leave me alone," she managed to murmur. "I need to think this through on my own."
"But..."
"Please."
He nodded silently, got up and left the room, throwing her one last, sad look before the door snapped shut. To her, it felt as if he had walked out of her life.
She couldn't really blame him.
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.
From part three:
Harm was overwhelmed with relief when he heard her speak even though her voice had suffered from the long days of intubation. He needed to steady himself, holding onto the bed, before he could take her hand to clasp it between his own. "We're at a military hospital in Yuma. You nearly got yourself killed in the attempt to save Chloe, Sergei and little AJ. God, Mac, I thought this time I'd lost you for good."
Shuddering involuntarily, he smiled at her, but his smile fell as he saw the look of utmost confusion on her face. He felt her pull her hand back from his and a chill of fear threatened to paralyze him. A mix of dread, grief and compassion was showing on the doctor's features. He only mumbled something about having other patients to tend to and excused himself just a little too quickly.
Mac was looking at Harm with wide eyes, apparently at a total loss as to what she was supposed to think. Then she smiled a little self-consciously. Harm braced himself for the worst, but still, the impact of her next words took his breath away and threw his life into a murderous tailspin.
Again, Mac cleared her throat and coughed a little. When she finally spoke, her voice was achingly innocent. "I'm really sorry. But I'm afraid I don't understand. What did you say I did, nearly getting myself killed? And... uhm..." She chuckled a little helplessly, "I'm so embarrassed to ask as you seem to know me, but... have we ever met before?"
Part Four:
Deep silence followed the sentence. Mechanically, Harm reached for a nearby chair and settled down at her bedside, his eyes never leaving hers. She was obviously waiting for an answer and seemed to be searching his face for some hint as to what kind of answer she was about to get from him. Embarrassment and curiosity were shining in her eyes - but they were mingled with a considerable amount of anxiety as the moment was dragging out and she couldn't seem to get her thoughts straight.
Harm's vocal chords refused their duties and just like her, he had to clear his throat several times, prolonging the moment even more. But the urge to speak was overwhelming, and he forced his voice to comply, regardless of any possible consequences.
He tried a strained smile, if only to hide his own inward turmoil. "Mac, don't tell me you've forgotten what a pain in the..."
He stopped short when he realized that the anxiety in her eyes had turned to despair. And it was then that it hit him for good: she really and truly didn't remember a single thing about him. It didn't matter that her injury apparently hadn't caused any major physical damage. And it didn't matter that this loss of memory had more likely been caused by the traumatic events she'd been through than by the bullet that had grazed her head. The result of whatever had caused it was devastating. The way she looked at him - daring him to assume he had any right whatsoever to claim a personal acquaintance, and at the same time frantically calling out to him to save her from the horror of oblivion, whoever he might be...
Utterly unprepared for this situation as he was, one thing instantly became crystal clear before his conscious: to win her back, he had to keep his distance. He would help her with every single step on the way if she'd let him, but he knew he had to keep his feelings to himself at all costs. Mac was as lost as she could ever be and she was right now facing the battle of her lifetime to come back to herself. Not 'even though', but 'because' he loved her more than anything in the world, he had to avoid telling her anything that would throw her off track even more.
He still remembered how he had felt when he had come to after his rescue from the Atlantic and Renée had told him that they had been an item for more than a year. The only thing he had wanted had been to figure out his situation and she had only added to his confusion - because she had loved him and had told him so. He had felt honor-bound to stay with her, and not only because Mac had been with Mic at the time. It had mostly been because he had believed what Renée had told him. Why would she lie about something as important as a personal relationship? And how could he have left her like that, seeing how involved she obviously was with him? He hadn't wanted to stay with Renée, but he had known he couldn't just walk out of her life. So, knowing Mac to be equally honorable - wouldn't she react in exactly the same way? When she'd have him around all the time, helping her through this ordeal, and knowing he loved her, wouldn't she stay with him, even though she didn't remember anything at all about him, just because she felt she was honor-bound to?
If he'd ever let it come to this, their future would be doomed.
Unbeknownst to the person next to him who was still staring at him with huge, terrified eyes, Harmon Rabb, Jr., made what might easily be the hardest decision of his entire life. Even though it was tearing him up from inside with a pain so powerful he thought he'd suffocate, he knew it was the right - no, the only - thing to do.
He let her go.
"Umm... sir?" Mac's hoarse voice had taken up a puzzled edge as she carefully reminded him of her presence.
He jumped and, shutting his heart off for good, faced her with a tired half- smile. "Oh, I'm sorry. I... I'm still very tired because of my injury and I... uh... I guess I was indeed surprised that my colleague of six years doesn't remember me at all."
If it was even possible, her eyes went wider still, but the desperation showing in them lessened just a little bit, hearing that she apparently did know him quite well. "Six years?" she asked, more to herself than to him. Then her brow furrowed. "An injury, you say? Does what happened to you have anything to do with me?"
"Yes, it does," he explained calmly, pondering how much he could tell her without losing her somewhere on the way. Then, deciding he'd probably have to go back quite a long way anyway, he took the plunge. He'd soon find out if she remembered anything at all. "We were rescuing little AJ, Chloe and Sergei when the kidnappers opened fire. You were hit four times, to your thigh, at your shoulder and at your hip, and a ricochet grazed the back of your head. I got a bullet to my thigh as well, when I tried to get you out of the line of fire."
He knew his explanation had done anything but cleared things up for her but this was as good a starting point as any, so he just waited for her to react.
"Good God..." she mumbled and he thought he could see her thoughts chasing each other behind her forehead. "So, I... I guess I owe you my life, then," she concluded a little uneasily.
Knowing any denial would only distort the truth, he just nodded. "You're welcome."
The furrow on her brow eased a little and she seemed to take in his features. The features of her savior, whoever he might turn out to be. "Thank you... uh..." She stopped, lost.
"Harm," he helped her in a low voice, trying to ignore the sting. "Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., United States Navy, your working partner at the Navy's Judge Advocate General Corps."
"I'm in the Navy?"
Despite the tragedy, he couldn't help chuckling a little at her question. "You'd have introduced me to your right hook if I'd ever so much as joked about you being in the Navy, jarhead," he answered wistfully, lost in memories.
"Excuse me?" Even though her voice was feeble, her surprise and annoyance were evident. "What did you just call me? Are you always this rude? And what makes you think I'd start a fight with you? I'm not suicidal, you know..."
Sighing, Harm pulled himself up a little in his chair and resolved to take up Sisyphus's labor. "I'm sorry, Mac... I... why don't we just go all the way back to the beginning?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a flashback to the JAG-a-thon crossed his mind for a fleeting moment, and the irony wasn't lost on him. However, he had no time to dwell on the thought as just then the door opened and the doctor returned with two colleagues and a nurse in tow.
"Well, Colonel Mackenzie, it's nice to have you with us again," he said a little too cheerfully, ignoring Harm. "How are you feeling?"
"I don't really know," came the uneasy answer.
"But we do," the doctor went on in his honeyed voice. "We had all your vitals monitored closely, you know, until last night when we decided you were stable enough to go without help, except for the additional oxygen tube to your nose. But what would you say if we took that tube away, too, and moved you to a somewhat nicer room? The ICU's not exactly cozy. I guess you'd like to leave here as soon as you can."
Mac gave a weary "Sounds good," but Harm could clearly detect the 'Damned- right-I-do!' in her words. In an odd way, this ever so slight reminder of her gung-ho mentality managed to alleviate his mood a little. She was still Mac. Now she only needed to learn who Mac was.
Jan. 10th 0017 ZULU Admiral Chegwidden's house McLean, Virginia
AJ put his book aside and quickly strode over to the telephone that was ringing persistently. Actually, it wasn't ringing any differently from how it normally did, but still, there was something to the tone this time that had his apprehension growing. And knowing that a similar sense of foreboding normally came in connection with his chief of staff, AJ was sure that this call must have something to do with her. Dreading the news he might be about to receive, he picked up.
"Chegwidden."
["Sir, this is Commander Rabb."]
AJ's grip on the receiver tightened. He'd known it all along. "Commander, how's the situation?" he asked warily.
["She woke up, sir."]
A wave of joy flowed through the admiral's body. He hadn't lost the woman he'd always loved like his own daughter - and at times maybe even more. "That's wonderful, Harm," he said, a sigh of relief resounding in his words.
["Yes, sir."]
The obvious lack of joy and enthusiasm in the younger man's voice took him aback. "Commander," he asked sharply, "What aren't you telling me?"
The pause that followed the question made him hold his breath; all previous elation vanished instantly.
["She's got amnesia, sir."]
The short, next-to-no-info answers of his subordinate started to infuriate him. "Details, Rabb," he barked, taking refuge into anger so he wouldn't have to face the fear. "What doesn't she remember?"
["Everything, it seems, sir..."] The commander's voice had reduced to little more than a whisper and AJ could tell Harm was fighting to keep his composure. ["She even asked me if she knew me."]
"Dear God... what are the chances she'll get her memory back?"
["No one can tell, sir. I've been told that judging by her physical state, the memory loss is more likely the result of her traumatic experiences in connection with the hit at the head. The doctor says we should be grateful the bullet only grazed the skull and that she's awake and moving. That she's thinking and speaking seems to be a miracle in itself."]
AJ slowly sat down on the couch, horrified - and hurting for both of his friends. Both were facing a dreadful ordeal - Mac, fighting to get some hold on anything from her former life, and Harm, seeing his love had forgotten he even existed.
His love. AJ braced himself. He hated to intrude but he felt he had to know the truth if he wanted to be able to support them in some way. "Harm," he ventured carefully, "Since when exactly have you and Mac been together?"
Harm didn't even try to deny. ["New Year, sir,"] came the toneless answer. ["About an hour before Harriet's call."]
They hadn't even had the time to get to know each other as lovers - emotionally as well as physically. AJ's heart went out to them. Mac's bottomless grief about Harm being lost at sea was still vivid in his memory. Back then, she'd been about to marry another man. But now, she and Harm seemed to have - finally - managed to lay all the cards on the table and talk from the heart. He couldn't even begin to understand what Harm had to be going through.
AJ wished he were able to help them wake from this nightmare, or to at least ease the pain somehow... and suddenly, it struck him. He could in fact do some genuine good here. And he would, so help him God.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am, and I know that sounds terribly flat," he began. "But I want you to know that we're all in this with you. Me, Bud and Harriet, Sturgis - we'll all do whatever we can to help you in some way."
Harm's voice conveyed a tired, rueful smile. ["Thank you, sir, I appreciate that, but I doubt there's anything you can help us with right now - except figuring out a way how I can stay with Mac and not face AWOL charges. Or how I can ensure she'll still have her old life to come back to once she gets there."]
"As a matter of fact: that was exactly what I was getting at, Commander," AJ replied. "I know it seems way too early to think of things as secondary as this, but I know how much it'll mean to both of you. You'll understand that I can't prolong Mac's leave indefinitely without revealing what happened. She could also resign her commission at once in this case, because no one would ever allow her to stay in the service if she doesn't come back to her normal self within the next three weeks. If it takes longer than that, everyone will always suspect that some permanent brain damage occurred. And with that, she won't be allowed to remain in the service at all."
["I guess not, sir."] He could tell Harm hadn't really considered this possibility before. He seemed shocked at the perspective of Mac facing a disability discharge. So AJ hurried to set his mind at ease.
"However, as for now, only me, you and the doctors know. You and I can keep this a secret, and the doctors are bound by medical confidentiality. We might need to tell a few trustworthy people later on, but if you could keep her from revealing her memory loss to anyone right now until she can leave the hospital, and if you could supply her with everything she'll need to know immediately, then the memory loss might go unnoticed. Then, you'd just need to figure out a reason why she might want to go into reserves and retreat from active duty, for now, and talk her into signing that letter. If all goes well, she could be reinstated to her position without major problems whenever she's ready."
Again, silence reigned for a few seconds as his offer seemed to sink in at the other end of the phone line. When he finally answered, Harm's voice was a little shaky. ["Thank you, sir,"] he only choked out very low.
"Anytime, son. And good luck," AJ gently replied and ended the connection without any more words. He knew that probably neither of them would have been able to talk very much anyway right now.
Jan. 10th 1522 ZULU Military hospital Yuma, Arizona
When she heard the slight creaking of the door, the woman occupying the single bed instantly turned her head in the direction the sound was coming from, eager to absorb any detail whatsoever that might in some way give her an idea of who she was. As of now, she didn't really know a thing. It felt as if she didn't even exist - and the feeling was scaring her to no end.
She had gotten a few crumbs of information before she had been brought here, and had then been forced to give in to her exhaustion and sleep. When she had woken, the first thing she had felt was the fear that she might already have forgotten what little she had learned just a few hours ago. But then, wracking her brain - or whatever was left of it, she thought wearily - she had been able to put the information together. Still, it made no sense.
Her name was Mackenzie. Apparently, her friends called her Mac. If this Commander Rabb - Harm - really was a friend of hers. She had no way of knowing for sure. Her gut told her to trust him. The expression of concern and caring in his eyes had seemed ever so sincere. Yet, she knew she had to be careful. Right now, she was as vulnerable as a newborn child.
At least the doctor had confirmed something Harm had told her. He had called her 'Colonel Mackenzie' and then, this was a military hospital. She had figured out as much. So she really was in the military. If what Harm had told her was true, she had to be a Marine. There were no colonels in the Navy. She had asked herself again and again why she would know such general details as this and remember nothing about herself, and she had dug frantically for anything whatsoever that might point her to a more personal line of thinking. Yet, nothing had come of it. She had to stick to what Harm would be able to tell her.
If he was a commander and her working partner, she had to be a lieutenant colonel, she supposed. She doubted she could be ranking higher than him. Apparently, she was a lawyer. A frightening thought, given the fact that she couldn't remember ever reading a law book. But she would worry about that later. For the moment, she accepted it as a given that she was Lieutenant Colonel "Mac" Mackenzie, a lawyer working with the Navy's JAG. How she knew what JAG was anyway, she couldn't tell. She just did.
And now this weird story about her and him saving someone and being shot - this was where she lost track of what was going on. Her life was no freaking movie, damn it. Lawyers didn't chase kidnappers except if they were called Robert Redford in real life. She'd grill Harm on that one, she resolved, seeing him step into the room, a self-conscious smile on his face.
A handsome face it was, she had to admit, and a handsome appearance altogether. Surely he'd have women waiting in line. Definitely not her man. She knew she just hated those Don-Juan types, speaking in terms of relationships. Yet, if he was willing to help her and if they got on well at work, she could have had worse company in her current situation. Where was her family anyway? Harm was the only one who'd shown up yet.
He stepped close, pulled up a chair and sat down at her side, the self- conscious expression still in place. This surprised her a little - a man like him was supposed to be as sure of himself as anyone. But this would be another detail to be added to her getting-to-know list and stored for later. Now, her priorities were somewhat different.
"Hi, Marine," he greeted her in a low, warm voice, startling her as she felt his words go right through to her soul. There was something about the sound of his voice that struck her, but she willed herself to ignore the feeling. 'Later,' she told herself, frowning inwardly.
"Hey... umm..." she stopped, feeling her smile turn a little strained. How did one reply wittily to that one? "Uh... sailor?" she tried. His reaction told her she had picked the right guess - and for what followed, she was completely unprepared.
His face lit up. The way he smiled at her had to be the most stunning manifestation of a warm, likeable disposition she had ever seen. 'Lethal,' she mused, again picturing women lining up in front of his door. And yet - there was something so genuinely good and compassionate in his expression that she was instantly afraid she wouldn't be able to be on her guard around him.
"I see you pardoned me for being rude earlier," he remarked.
"Maybe..." she replied, finding it hard to keep the corners of her mouth relaxed. "But what was that you said to me anyway? Jarhead?"
His glance turned just a little guilty. "Yep," he admitted sheepishly. "You know, you Marines and us sailors tend to... well... disagree on what's more important - in war, in training, in... whatever. Each branch has its pride. So, to make a long story short, just call me 'squid' next time I forget my manners. So we're equal."
Soft laughter bubbled up inside her. This self-irony definitely suited him, she decided. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind."
He chuckled with her, but sobered quickly. "How are you feeling?" he asked, concern showing in his eyes.
"I don't really know," she answered honestly, looking down on her hands and straightening a little in her half-seated position. "Confused as hell covers it nicely, I think."
She saw him make a movement as if to take her hand but he drew back immediately. "I can imagine." Again, the velvety sound of his voice easily penetrated the walls she was trying to erect around herself.
Looking up, she fixed her glance to his. His eyes were of an amazing shade of deep blue, with just the right amount of green shining through. "No," she said calmly. "In fact, you can't."
"Actually, I do know how you feel," he replied, leaving her staring at him in mild astonishment. "At least partly," he continued. "Last May, I had to eject over the Atlantic and was out in the water for hours. When they finally found me, I was barely alive, and when I came to, I suffered partial amnesia for a few days."
It seemed he had really been in her place, at least to some extent. "You ejected?" she asked, trying to get some order into the facts. "I thought you were a lawyer."
With a rueful half-smile, he explained, "I am. I used to fly F-14s, but I caused a ramp strike in '92, due to eye problems. So I changed designator."
The expression on his features had turned just a little pained. She could feel there was more to the story... as there seemed to be more to just about everything she came across. Squaring her shoulders, she forced her focus back on the task at hand, getting to know herself. All details concerning her surroundings would follow later on. Still, one question had piqued her curiosity.
"Where was I when you were lost at sea, and afterwards, at the hospital? Was I with you?"
Again, she noted that his brow furrowed considerably as he seemed to ponder his answer. 'He's not being sincere,' she thought sadly, wishing her impression of him were different.
"You had personal issues to tend to at the time," he answered, his voice guarded. "And that prevented you from coming to the hospital very often. Still, you played an important role in bringing me back to myself."
So he probably was just paying back what she had done for him back then, she mused. Yet, he was being a little too hesitant in answering her questions. Was he concerned that she might not be able to digest the info yet? Or what was there to conceal about her life?
Deciding on a slight change of topic, she swallowed her uneasiness best as she could. "That was probably far easier than what we've got at hand right now," she stated in a low voice. "Your memory loss was partial, you said. Well, apparently, mine isn't. I don't even know my own name." Her gaze dropped.
She gave a start when she felt his hand shyly touching her shoulder, asking her to look at him. Slowly, she lifted her gaze and what she saw in his eyes overwhelmed her with the depth of emotion he seemed to be trying to hide, but couldn't. He seemed to have a truly compassionate heart. Somehow, this thought moved her deeply.
"You're going to be fine," he answered just as low as she had spoken, intently looking at her. "If you're willing to let me, I promise I'll do everything in my power to help you come back to your normal self. Trust me, Sarah."
Sarah.
She could feel goose-bumps at the back of her neck. 'Sarah Mackenzie' - the name didn't feel familiar, but it did ring a bell somewhere deep inside her mind. A first step in the right direction? 'Please, God, let me be right...'
Harm was still looking at her, studying her features for any signs of a reaction. Making an effort, she managed to force the slightest hint of a smile on her face. Then she held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Harmon. I am Sarah."
Confused, she noted that he swallowed heavily. "It's Harm," he repeated. "And you tell everyone to call you Mac. Maybe we should leave it at that?"
"Is it a problem for you to use my given name?" This man was turning out a real puzzle.
He ran a hand through his hair. "No, but..." Again, he hesitated, confirming her suspicion that she was getting an edited version of her story. Her anger growing, she spoke up.
"The truth. And not just this once, Harm. You understand 'the whole truth and nothing but the truth', don't you? And don't ask me how I knew that. I've got no f...reaking idea."
He sighed, apparently resolving to give in. "It's just that 'Sarah' is someone you tend to keep to yourself, Mac. 'Mac' is the one we're all friends with. I didn't think you'd want that to change just now."
Boy, was this ever getting complex. She stifled an exasperated face. Well, this schizophrenia would stop from now on. She felt no need to get to know a multiple personality when one would do just fine. And somehow she knew she wanted to be Sarah. She didn't know the bearer of the name - but she felt like Sarah was the one she was reaching out to.
"Actually, I do want it to change," she declared determinedly, ignoring the flash of pain that crossed his features ever so briefly. Her jaw set, she again stuck out her hand to him. "Let's try this again: I'm delighted to meet you, Harm."
Hesitantly, he reached for her fingers and finally encircled them with his own, the warm contact instantly electrifying her. Still holding her gaze, he solemnly replied, "Believe me, Sarah, so am I."
For a long moment, their eyes held. Then she felt she couldn't stand the tension any longer and broke the contact - eyes as well as hands. While she was readjusting her blanket, she tried to get the conversation going again.
"Tell me, how exactly did we end up here?"
"Okay, I'll try to make this short," he began, pulling a photo out of his wallet and handing it to her. It was kind of an informal family photo, apparently very recent. In the middle was a couple, a young, slightly stout man with a blond woman, his wife, she supposed. The woman was holding a boy of about three years on her arms. To her right, a tall, balding man was towering over her. Next to him stood a handsome African-American. To the young man's left, she spotted a woman with dark hair and big brown eyes, standing just next to Harm. Suddenly, her hand started to tremble. She knew this face.
"This is me, isn't it?" she whispered.
"Yeah..." he softly acknowledged. Then his voice turned neutral. "The couple in the middle are Lieutenants Bud Roberts and Harriet Sims-Roberts. Bud is a lawyer and Harriet is an office executive. They're colleagues of ours at JAG. As is this nice man here," he indicated the African-American. "This is Commander Sturgis Turner, former submariner and now a JAG lawyer, too. Pal of mine back from Naval Academy. And this," his finger moved to the last figure in the picture, "Is our commanding officer, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden. He passed his name on to this little guy," he indicated the child on Harriet's arms. "AJ Roberts, three years old, your and my godson."
Sarah was touched. "He's adorable."
Harm nodded. "Yes, he is. And we love him very much, I can tell you that. Mac, uh... I'm sorry... Sarah... now we're getting to the point." His expression had turned very earnest and Sarah felt her apprehension grow as he went on, "Ten months ago, Bud and I prosecuted a Naval officer for murder and got him convicted to life at Fort Leavenworth, the armed forces' prison. You were assigned his defense counsel and when he was found guilty, he swore he'd get back at us. He did, on New Years Eve."
It seemed to her that he was waiting for any indication as to if she was still following him. "I see," she cut in, although she didn't, but that didn't matter right now. "What did he do?"
"We were at a ball in D.C., you, me, Bud and Harriet," Harm explained. Sarah made a mental side-note: she had gone to a ball with Harm. In private. Definitely a detail that needed further inquiry. 'Later,' she once again admonished herself. Harm went on, "When we... when I'd taken you home, Harriet called and told us that there'd been a break in at their house. Little AJ and his babysitters were gone. And said babysitters happened to be Chloe, the girl you were tutoring in the Big Sister Program, and my Russian half-brother Sergei. Don't ask for details now, these are two long stories of their own." He held up a hand, silencing her. "Anyway, we knew this was the doing of the officer we had gotten convicted and you knew where to find them. We went out there, bailed them out, were being shot at and... well, this is the result."
"Phew," Sarah made, amazement warring with disbelief and anger in her soul. "I can't quite bring myself to believe that lawyers like us would go and get them ourselves. But the wounds are there, so I'll leave it at that. This Chloe - she's not my real sister, I understand. Who IS my family, then?" She could hear that her voice had taken on a slightly accusing edge but she couldn't help it. What was Harm trying to accomplish, telling her stories as crazy as this one? She could really need an honest ally... sad that it shouldn't be him.
Harm had apparently understood her mood and picked up on it. "Mac - Sarah..."
'Why is it so difficult for him to comply with my wish?' she thought with a mental frown.
He tried again. "You'll find that our lives have grazed certain borderlines more than once," he ventured carefully. "I know many things will sound weird, lunatic even. I can only offer my word of honor as an officer that what I'm telling you is true." His expression was very sincere and she felt strongly inclined to believe him, but she forcefully reminded herself to be on her guard. 'Everyone might be your enemy,' she told herself. 'Don't let yourself be lured into trusting someone you barely know.'
"Okay," she only said, not quite sure what her answer was meant to imply. "So, now, my family."
When she saw him wince, she felt like she wanted to shake him. "Damn it, Harm," she said in a low voice, "If I'm a Marine, as you keep telling me I am, I can handle whatever there is to tell. Spill it."
She heard him sigh. "Your father is dead." Harm's voice sounded defeated and monotone. "He died about three years ago. You were never close. He was an abusive alcoholic. Your mother left him - and you - when you turned fifteen. You met her again at your father's deathbed but you didn't stay in contact. You have no brothers or sisters. Your uncle, Marine Colonel Matthew O'Hara, is... on a mission abroad right now and not allowed to get in touch. You were married but your husband died in an accident involving a handgun. You have no children. That's it."
Sarah sat thunderstruck. This was her life. And from Harm's hesitation, she knew he had tried to give her the inevitable facts only. Now she wasn't even sure she wanted to hear the rest of it. What good was getting your life back if it turned out such a mess?
Compassion shone in Harm's eyes when she turned her head to face him. "Sarah, I'm so sorry, I wanted to..."
He didn't get to finish his sentence. The door opened and a young nurse stepped in, holding a box of chocolates. She was smiling widely. "Ma'am, sir, I just wanted to give you this on behalf of all the nurses who looked after you in Intensive Care. We don't know any details about your condition, ma'am, but as we can see that you're already catching up, we wanted to wish you all the best. Welcome back, ma'am."
"Thank you so much," Sarah replied happily, "I really appreciate that."
"You're welcome, ma'am." With a shy wave, the nurse retreated from the room and closed the door again.
Sarah opened the box and chose a piece of chocolate, glad to have a little sweet consolation to help her over the sad things she'd just learned about herself. But just when she was about to open her mouth, Harm quickly snatched both, chocolate and box, away from her hands, his expression horrified.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped, at a loss and annoyed for good this time. The commander was a genuine nuisance.
"There's rum in it," Harm explained very low, apparently not even daring to face her, but she needed him to. After all, he had provoked her.
"So what?" she shot back, noting with satisfaction that he seemed to be lifting his eyes to hers against his own will.
"You mustn't eat that," he stated in a pained voice. Then he took a deep breath. "You're an alcoholic, Sarah, like your father. You've been sober for over ten years now, except for once and that was understandable, given the situation. But you need to continue on that path."
Deep silence prevailed when he had finished his sentence. Sarah was too shell-shocked even to breathe. It wasn't just her life that was a mess - she was.
Her eyes were glued to her hands that were resting in her lap. Her mind was spinning. Where the devil was she supposed to go from here? What was there to come back to after all? And would this really be worth the effort? Right now, the only answers she could think of were 'nowhere', 'nothing' and 'no'.
When she felt his hand on her shoulder again, she gave in to the inevitable and looked up, allowing him to see there were tears in her eyes. He reached out as if to brush them away but she recoiled, making his shoulders drop.
"Sarah..." Again, the tone of his voice struck her. And suddenly she found it was too much to bear.
"Harm, I... I'm sorry, but, please, leave me alone," she managed to murmur. "I need to think this through on my own."
"But..."
"Please."
He nodded silently, got up and left the room, throwing her one last, sad look before the door snapped shut. To her, it felt as if he had walked out of her life.
She couldn't really blame him.
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)